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User Rating:
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9.8
/10
(9 votes)
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Good-bye to you, my buck of red fox hide,
The autumn wars have taken yet another,
I marvel at the naked bones of pride
That say you made good hunting, O, my brother.
There are no songs for we of antlered tongue
Except the wind-horn and its lonely blowing.
A strangely austere sound for one so young,
But you shall have white blankets at its going.
Salute you deer that pass with icy breath.
Though you will never run as stags together.
The great intangible that men call death
Has come to one of us with woodsmoke weather.
Sandra Fowler
| Submitted Date |
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Saturday, June 17, 2006 |
| Submitted Date |
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Saturday, August 07, 2010 |
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Comments about this poem (The Great Intangible
by
Sandra Fowler
) |
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premji premji (5/1/2009 11:17:00 AM)
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the great intangible: death....sandra let me tell you something that is shocking... sometimes our pet animals take away this greatest intangible by sacrificing their life just to save us... it happened in my life... our dear pets live for us and sometime sacrifice their life for us......
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Alison Cassidy (4/15/2009 3:08:00 AM)
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If you had told me that you had written this yesterday, I would have believed you. Your poetic skill and descriptive prowess are constant and on-going.
'I marvel at the naked bones of pride
That say you made good hunting, O, my brother.' These lines, I particularly enjoyed, the gentle touch of irony adding weight to this deeply felt poem about the death of an animal those boundless buoyancy and grace is legendary. Love, Alison ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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Raveendran . (11/13/2007 6:36:00 AM)
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The poetic utterances that I like in this poem are: the naked bones of pride - antlered tongue - the wind-horn and its lonely blowing. - icy breath - woodsmoke weather.
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Not a member No 4 (6/10/2007 5:21:00 PM)
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I can't better Will barber here - so what's new? . There is remarkable continuity in your work in terms of depth, emotional power, and technical accomplishment. Every one a feast for the senses and emotions. I never leave your page without feeling that you've set a few waves in motion in the inner sea. Wonderful poetry Sandra - as ever. xx jim
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Dylwyn Bowen (6/27/2006 1:14:00 PM)
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Sandra, the trouble with you is that you write like a poet...not just any poet...one of the very best. This is one of those pieces that I will keep as a reminder of the limits that I would dream to reach.
Regards,
Dylwyn
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Will Barber (6/21/2006 11:15:00 PM)
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It is remarkable how your voice has carried through the decades. I'm sure that anyone who had read this early work would instantly recognise your recent work. You were born to be yourself. This is (was) a very moving work, expressed beautifully in the most graceful of verse forms. The dedication is also very moving. Absolutely beyond votes.
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Sylvia Spencer (6/19/2006 6:10:00 AM)
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Sandra you are so lucky to have had that qualty in writing from an early age, it has led you too a world in my eyes the world that belongs to the great poets. I always said that you belong in the world of classical poetry well this is all the proof we need. Starr should feel proud that you have dedicated this poem to her. cheers Sylvie
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Leigh A. Hill (6/18/2006 11:03:00 PM)
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how beautifully done Sandra, thank you for the dedication!
love starr
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Uriah Hamilton (6/18/2006 6:37:00 PM)
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All of your poems reflect the sad soul of the true poet.
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Read all
14
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